


Bonbonnière

by teletou



Category: Senyuu.
Genre: Alternate Universe - School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:05:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4978276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teletou/pseuds/teletou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That's, like, your third giant parfait. I'm concerned.” </p><p>Ross looks at him dead in the eyes, then scoops a spoonful of cream into his mouth in slow, deliberate motions.</p><p>“You know what? Never mind.”</p><p> </p><p>  <i>(Alternatively, ten times Ross consumes more sugar than what's probably healthy.)</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Bonbonnière

_1._

“Ross?”

_One pump._

“Hmm?”

_Two more pumps._

“Did you really need that third pump of sugar?”

_An almost offensively serene pump._

Ross looks at him despairingly. “Coffee tastes so _bitter,_ Buchou.”

“Then don't drink coffee!” At this point, Ross would be better off chugging down the bottle of liquid sugar. It sure _looks_ like he's attempting to stuff the whole thing into his coffee.

Alba weighs the possibilities of winning a fist fight against Ross in attempt to wrestle the paper cup away from him. By now, he isn't even sure that it's safe for consumption – or if it still qualifies as _coffee_ , for that matter.

Ross raises an eyebrow, pushes down the plastic pump ever so slowly, mocking Alba with pure, concentrated deviance.

“ _Honestly._ ” It's not like he doesn't feel for the guy. Ross is a terrible morning person, he knows this – his eye bags right now are doing a superb impression of the dark abyss. He worries, but it isn't hard to sympathise with him and, hey, who was he to deny a guy the one thing that keeps him from being a barely sentient creature of the undead before noon.

Surely, it's better to risk diabetes than to have a teacher yell at Ross for not paying attention in class. Alba thinks that _he_ would be the one to face consequences if such an event were to happen.

He wrinkles his nose, then shudders at the thought.

“ _Fine,”_ Alba sighs, uncrossing his arms.

They leave the convenience store with the sound of the cheery, electronic bell chime above their heads, Ross decidedly more awake after three sips and five steps away from the cashier.

 

 

2.

Ross taps Alba on one shoulder, ducks to his other side when he turns to look. He chomps down onto Alba's soda-flavoured popsicle, just as good as _inhaling_ the thing with how big of a bite he took.

Alba's sure that the whole school could hear him screech.

Frankly, he's also sure that no one gives a shit. Ross steals his food on a regular basis, everyone is probably used to it by now.

He wonders, as his anguished weeping fizzles away into a hollow hiss of loss, why _he_ isn't used to it yet.

 

 

3.

“That's, like, your third giant parfait, I'm concerned.”

Ross looks at him dead in the eyes, then scoops a spoonful of cream into his mouth in slow, deliberate motions.

“You know what? Never mind.”

 

 

4.

“You should really, _really,_ watch your sugar intake Ross.”

Alba stops, when Ross slides a plate of sweet tamagoyaki in front of him.

“That is _unfair_ _―”_

“Who said they were for you?” Ross pulls the plate back towards him, makes himself at home on a chair across the table from Alba. “I pushed it too far when I set it down.”

 

 

5.

Ross hands him a candied apple, face turned away, the tips of his ears red. Alba tilts his head in confusion, fingers worrying the sleeve of his yukata. _It's odd,_ he thinks, watching shadows play across the apple, a streak of orange from the lanterns' glow and festival lights trailing across its skin, _Ross isn't one to share his food_ ―

 _Wait_ _―_

“You ate all the caramel!”

Ross plays being shy, nibbles almost demurely on another caramel apple he has. “You're not comfortable sharing food with me?”

“ _That's not the point!”_

“I'm sorry, Buchou.” He looks down, shuffling his feet. “I'll give you mine?”

Alba finds himself holding in both hands, two plain apples on a stick, staple festival sweets devoid of their brilliant carmine-coloured coating.

“ _Why,_ ” he wails.

 

 

6.

“I have an idea for our next club outing!” Ross shoves a flyer to Alba's face, way too close that he can barely read. He makes out through the shadows and blurred mess of shapes, an aesthetic arrangement of piped custard and cut strawberries wrapped around a cream-coloured cone― _Ah,_ it's that new crêperie by the park.

“ _Wait._ What kind of club do you think we are?!”

 

 

7.

“Not a very useful club, I'd reckon.” Ross says, flicking an apple crisp into his mouth, lounging lazily across three chairs lined together in their club room. “We aren't even contributing to society.”

 

 

8.

“We are _not_ remaking our club into a Sweets and Pastries Research Club, Ross, please put that form away― Ross, _no.”_

 

 

9.

They do visit the shop at some point, in the end – as a date. Ross isn't really _the ask-someone-out-and-plan-a-date_ kind of guy, so ultimately Alba's response came in panicked screeching and sputtered words because _is he planning something, I'm scared, should I be scared?_ _Oh god what if a nuclear apocalypse is drawing near._ Usually their outings were a lot less forward, often just taking the long way home and stopping by the convenience store for bread and then eating at the park. So all things considered, this was their first date, in a way.

_And yet―_

Alba flinches at Ross's hard glare, after slapping his hand away from taking a second sugar pack for his tea.

“Don't you know anything about flavour balancing, Buchou?” Ross says with a smile. Alba nearly squeaks, his survival instincts kicking in. “Since crepes are sweet, it's better to have something mild to drink along with it. Like tea!”

“It beats the purpose if you add sugar into it!” But it's not like he actually had self-perseverance in the first place, _so._

“ _Hmm._ ” Alba follows Ross' fingers, trailing circles around the rim of the cup before curling around the handle. He hides a smile behind his drink, hair falling to frame his face as he tilts his head. “I'll just look at you when I drink, then. That'll make it a lot sweeter.”

Alba feels heat crawling up his neck. His mouth hangs open, shocked into silence that he stares at Ross in utter disbelief for a good half minute. _Did he just…?_

His head meets the table in a resounding _thump,_ accompanied by a muted groan. “I can't _believe_ _―”_ He buries his face into his arms, nuzzling his sleeves in hopes that he could wipe away his embarrassment. “ _You're awful!”_

Ross snorts, in lieu of a reply, and flicks the top of his head.

 

 

10.

“Buchou?”

“Yeah― _Mmph?!_ ” A whispered gasp, his breath leaves in a wisp. His lips part, warmth spreading across his cheeks. A kind of sweetness stars to melt onto his tongue, and he blinks, dazed, eyes watery, lets the taste flood the insides of his mouth.

Ross smirks, when they part. He keeps their lips at a distance, barely a millimetre between them, Alba's trembled exhales against his skin.

“So,” he says almost casually. “Crea gave me a bag of konpeito―”

Alba nearly bites his tongue around the candy, sputters as he scrambles backwards on his chair, back hitting the wall behind him with a loud thud. “We're in _class,_ ” he squeaks.

Ross shrugs. “Sharing is caring.”

Face hidden behind his hands, Alba thinks he might have heard his soul depart from his body through an agonised sigh.

 


End file.
